Tyler Ridge and the Mystery of Werdwall
by Ashliebelle
Summary: The goings on of the magical world in Europe are well documented in Harry Potter, but what about in America? An entirely different tradition and history meets Tyler Ridge, a young, soon to-be wizard with a hidden gift.
1. The Ridges

The house that belonged to the family of four at the end of the cul-de-sac was oddly normal. Their shrubs were always cut to perfection and windows clean both inside and out. Housewives of the neighborhood envied Estelle Ridge's tall sunflowers, which stood like guards flanking her driveway, never wilting, even though the late spring frost killed any plant that dared to come out early. Their lawn was always short and green and clear of the tricycles and Fisher Price plastic cars that usually accompanied their small children outside.

The thing that puzzled neighbors the most was that Estelle and her husband Christopher were both very busy with their careers and seemed like the kind of lively people who wouldn't have time for meticulously trimming their shrubs or spreading fertilizer for their sunflowers. They were active members of the community; Estelle was head of the PTA of her eldest son's elementary school and Christopher initiated a community watch program within months of moving into their house.

Their neighbor, Pamela Washington, was most suspicious of their lawn that almost seemed to take care of itself. Pretending like she needed advice on her own lawn, Pamela cornered Christopher one morning, asking for the brand of weed-killer he used. When he didn't supply an answer, she asked how often he mowed. He cleared his throat and said once a week. When she innocently asked why she had never heard his mower, he suddenly pulled his hand from his pocket.

"Oh!" Christopher commented at the sight of his palm, which had begun bleeding. "It's my pocket knife," he explained to Pamela, who had leaned closer, momentarily forgetting about lawns and weed killers and mowers. "Must've left it open in there on accident."

When he retreated into his house, Pamela turned her lip into a half-smile and stepped from the short green grass of the Ridge's yard into her own crabgrass and dandelion strewn lawn, a little more bounce in her step than before. That very night, Mr. Ridge could be seen maneuvering a lawn mower across his yard, his two boys pressing their faces against the front window as if intrigued by their father's actions.

Pamela, who lived right next door, was highly distrustful of everyone in the neighborhood, so nobody was inclined to listen to her rave about the Ridge family and the unnatural perfection that seemed to follow them everywhere. When she pointed this out to the widow across the street, the widow just smiled and commented that the Ridge's did have the most beautiful sunflowers in the neighborhood. Dejected, but no less motivated, Pamela returned to her empty home to cook dinner.

While the Ridge family's home was inexplicably perfect, they themselves had some questionable habits that simply couldn't be overlooked. While everyone knew that short, dark-haired Estelle owned a private candy shop in the city, nobody knew where it was that Christopher disappeared to every day. He dressed like a businessman when he and his wife left at eight o'clock, carpooling together downtown, but when asked what it was he did, he flushed and stammered that it was just office work, never providing a company name or actual job title.

Their children were also slightly strange. The older, Alex, was rambunctious and rude, slightly more so than an average nine year-old. Tyler, seven, had wide black eyes that everyone knew well because the boy's favorite pastime seemed to be to stare at passers-by relentlessly as they rounded the end of the cul-de-sac.

One balmy evening in September, Tyler and Alex were alone in their playroom, playing Giants and Townsfolk, which mainly consisted of Alex destroying the Lego houses Tyler had spent hours building earlier in the day. Tyler tightly wrapped his seven year-old fingers around a blue Lego until six small circles imprinted themselves onto his palm.

"Rwar! Look at that house!" Alex said while kicking over the mansion Tyler had spent an hour and a half creating. Tyler thought about Alex annihilating his town for the third time that week, and pressed on the Lego that much harder. He felt his anger ebbing away as his hand hurt more. While Alex was known to run to their mother at the slightest pain or inconvenience, Tyler preferred to keep her out of it, knowing a sound beating from his brother would follow any kind of tattling.

When every Lego had detached from all others, Alex turned to Tyler maliciously to survey the emotional damage he might have caused his little brother. But Tyler just stared back calmly, his large black eyes hiding his frustration.

"You're such a freak," Alex said, assuming all his work was in vain if it didn't hurt Tyler's feelings. "Aren't you going to tell mom?" he challenged.

"No," Tyler said softly, releasing the Lego from his pained hand.

Alex scoffed, and kicked at the ground dejectedly.

Much to Tyler's relief, Alex's attention began to wander away from tormenting his little brother. While Tyler picked up the Legos, Alex halfheartedly played with a paper airplane on a string that their father had made for him earlier that day. While the blue paper soared around their heads, Alex was looking not at the plane, but at the hall closet located just outside the room.

"You wanna see something?" Alex said, turning to Tyler. Tyler placed the last handful of blocks into their bin and shut the lid tightly. He was very interested in what Alex might have found, but didn't want to treat him to any enthusiasm.

"I guess so," Tyler answered halfheartedly, following his brother to the closet.

"I saw Dad in here yesterday," Alex whispered mysteriously, opening the door to reveal a painfully normal handful of winter coats, raincoats and boots. Tyler watched Alex move the boots littering the bottom of the closet over to one side, and he began feeling around for something near the back. Tyler was instantly nervous; he knew Mom and Dad kept a lot of secrets from the neighbors and felt like he was sure to be in trouble if caught doing something to expose such secrets.

"Are you scared or something?" Alex sneered. He had been holding a pair of rain boots out for Tyler to take.

"No," Tyler lied, taking the boots and setting them aside, leaning into the dark closet.

"Like I was saying," Alex continued, "Dad was here yesterday and I saw him take out the shoes at the bottom and then—"

I heard a car door shut outside.

"Was that Dad?" I asked suddenly.

"Stop interrupting!" Alex snapped. "Anyway, Dad put this brown box down in the closet, but when he left, I looked in there and there was no box..."

_This certainly is interesting_, Tyler thought to himself. Anything that his parents did that concerned magic was very important and very secret. If there was a vanishing box, it had to contain some clue as to how their parents were able to perform magic at all.

"Boys!" The sharp voice of their mother made both boys jump guiltily. "Get out of there, put that mess away! We have company."

A round face appeared behind Tyler's mom's shoulder and smiled down at them. Tyler just stared and tried to hide his disgust. Mr. Chas, the man who belonged to the round face and the equally round stomach, raised his eyebrows and made a face that he obviously thought was comical. Of all the company Tyler hoped it could have been, Mr. Chas would have been his last pick. His real name was Chas Johnson, but Tyler's parents encouraged their kids to call him Mr. Chas as if he was a preschool teacher; he certainly treated Tyler like he was still in preschool.

Tyler didn't even like people treating him his own age, but Mr. Chas enjoyed ruffling Tyler's dark blond hair and also lying to Tyler about obvious things.

"So, what's for dinner, Estelle?" Mr. Chas said, finished making his "funny" faces at Tyler and Alex.

"What would you like?" Tyler's mother asked kindly. "I've got pasta, or we can make homemade pizza; I could call Christopher and ask him to pick up a few steaks—"

"Spaghetti sounds like it would hit the spot!" Mr. Chas answered boisterously. He turned to Tyler. "You like spaghetti?"

Tyler nodded politely.

"Even though it's made of worms?" Mr. Chas gasped. He laughed as if he had played a wondrous prank on the boy. Alex laughed with him, as if Tyler had actually believed this.

"Go ahead into the kitchen, Chas." Tyler's mother said with a small smile. "Alex, could you set the table?"

Alex loved Mr. Chas and grabbed the man's hairy, round arm while they both headed for the kitchen; Mr. Chas lifted Alex up into the air. Tyler watched them unenviously.

"Ty," his mother said, placing a hand on his shoulder, "I have a job for you."

"Okay," he answered.

"How about you pick up these boots? And then," he was sure she winked at him, "make sure Alex doesn't get into any more trouble for the rest of the night?"

Tyler let himself smile at his mother. It made him feel important when he was in charge of his older brother, and she seemed to know it. He was good at judging what was a bad idea and what wasn't; well, he was at least better at it than Alex was.

Their father came home thirty minutes later and the spaghetti was just about finished. When Mr. Chas wasn't acting like some kind of remedial clown, he was a bearable person. Chas and Tyler's father shook hands vigorously and each took a seat, immediately conversing about government and other things Tyler was disinterested in. The spaghetti was served; the family and Mr. Chas began passing around the bread and sauce.

Halfway through the meal, Chas asked their father about how Werdwall was, and Tyler and Alex both immediately looked up from their plates. They knew their parents were able to do magic and Werdwall had something to do with it.

"Christopher!" their mother scolded, as if he was a bad child.

"My fault, my fault," Chas said hurriedly. "I forgot about your rules."

"What about Werdwall?" Alex asked through a mouth full of garlic bread. "Who is he?"

His father just laughed nervously. "Don't talk with your mouth full, son."

And the subject was dropped.

But Werdwall was coursing through Tyler's head long after it had popped up in conversation. It wasn't exactly treated like a cuss word in the household, but unlike most curiosities of the children, it was a query that was not encouraged. They had first heard of it two years before, when Alex had gotten in trouble at school for breaking a classroom fish tank. To this day, Alex denied having done it, but Tyler never doubted his brother's guilt. The strange thing was that while Alex and Tyler eavesdropped on their parents to determine Alex's punishment, the couple was talking about Werdwall behind their closed bedroom door, and how Alex might be headed there.

Alex cried for an entire day, thinking that he was going to be sent away to someone named Werdwall's house because of his misbehavior. Their father said to forget about Werdwall, and to never talk about it again, but sometimes he himself would slip up and that's when the boys would ask about it. It had to have something to do with magic, or else it wouldn't be so secret.

With no regard about what the family was then discussing around the dinner table, Tyler threw caution into the wind and asked, "Why don't we talk about Werdwall?"

The table became silent. Even Alex gawked at Tyler for his courage to ask about Werdwall. The boys never asked about it unless an adult brought it up first. Mr. Chas swallowed loudly, and looked over to Estelle.

"I mean," Tyler continued softly, "we know he, or it, exists, so why not just tell us?"

"I think you should go get ready for bed," Tyler's mother said delicately.

"I think you should tell us about Werdwall," Tyler said, more confidently.

"Don't back talk your mother," his father warned, his bushy eyebrows furrowing slightly. "Get upstairs, now."

"Why don't you guys just tell us?" Tyler asked. "What are the rules? We _know_ you can do magic."

That seemed to be the last straw, and Tyler knew it instantly. His mother stood up and headed straight for Tyler's chair. He got up, and offered her his arm, knowing she would grab it and pull him upstairs. She did, and Tyler wished he could have just kept his stupid mouth shut.

He clamored up the stairs after her, hating the feeling of foreboding that sank to the pit of his stomach. Was she going to yell at him? She hardly ever yelled, but it was still a possibility.

She pulled him into his room and over to the bottom bunk, which was his bed, and sat him down on it.

"Tyler, you're being very rude tonight, that's why you're going to bed early." She was talking slowly, as if he could hardly understand her. His face became flushed.

"Do you understand?" she asked, pulling his shirt over his head.

"Yes," he mumbled angrily. Why did she have to treat him like he couldn't speak English?

When his mother began to pull his pajamas over his head, he twisted around so she let go.

"I can do this myself," he said stubbornly.

"Are you sure? Because you weren't acting like a big boy downstairs so I'll treat you like you're still little." She continued to dress him for bed.

Tyler's blood was starting to boil. He wasn't acting like a child, he was just asking questions. Was that against the law? It was just a little while ago that she told him to make sure Alex didn't get in trouble, and now he was being treated like he was three.

When he was dressed for bed, he climbed into the bottom bunk.

"I'm not a bat," Tyler mumbled. "I can't sleep when it's light outside."

"Good night," his mother said, ignoring him, turning off the lights. Not like that made much difference. The sun had barely set and the sky was still light blue through the blinds on the window. It would be another hour until it was entirely dark outside, which meant it would be another hour until Tyler would be able to get to sleep.

_She knew I'd have to sit here for an hour_, he thought bitterly. _Why won't she just tell us? It's not like it'd kill her._

The more he brooded on the subject, the more he wanted to know. It wouldn't be this secret if it wasn't important, and if he had to name something he hated more than anything, it was being kept in the dark about important things. He hated being told he was too young or too small, because he felt older than most of his brother's friends.

Even after the sky darkened, Tyler lay awake in his bed, feeling misunderstood. He felt like an older person trapped in a younger person's body, and unable to convince anyone otherwise.

He suddenly thought of the hall closet and the magic concealed within it. There was obviously something to be found if his mother wanted to keep Alex and him away from investigating it.

_Tonight_, Tyler thought, _I'll find out what's in that closet._


	2. Behind the Closet

When the silver clock on the wall read midnight, Tyler crept out of his bunk and into his brother's room. There were snores coming from the guest bedroom, which could only mean that Mr. Chas had had too much to drink after dinner and Tyler's dad wouldn't let him drive home.

Alex, Tyler was pleased to see, was found clutching his stuffed bear close to his side as he slept.

"Alex," he said, poking his brother in the side. Alex woke with a start, and made a noise like a chipmunk while Tyler continued to poke him.

"Stop it, you freak." Alex yawned, finally awake. "Whaddya want?"

"I think we should go look in that closet again," Tyler whispered. "Mom and Dad can't catch us this time."

"That's a stupid idea," Alex said, but he stretched and sat up. "What if we make too much noise?"

"We'll be stealthy," Tyler said mysteriously. "Come on, it'll be easy."

"Whatever."

Tyler could tell that Alex was trying to hide his enthusiasm just like Tyler had done before. Alex was never excited about any idea that wasn't his own.

"Just remember," Alex whispered as they climbed down the stairs, "I was the one who found out about the closet."

Soon enough, they had cleared the bottom of the closet of boots, and were feeling around the back just like before. What they were looking for exactly wasn't clear to Tyler, but if there was something to find, he was determined to find it. Alex went into the kitchen and returned with a flashlight. He shined some light into the back, sweeping it back and forth slowly.

"Tyler, look!" Alex exclaimed, the flashlight shining in the left corner of the closet. Tyler saw the light reflecting off of what looked like a small circular, metal handle on a hinge. Alex didn't hesitate to tug on it, but nothing budged.

"Check the other corner," Tyler suggested. Sure enough, there was an identical handle there.

"I bet the bottom opens up!" Alex whispered loudly. Each of the brothers took a handle and pulled, but instead of the bottom opening up, the back of the closet pulled forward and revealed a crawlspace about two and a half feet tall.

"There's the box!" Alex said, not bothering to whisper. Tyler elbowed his brother and then looked up to see that, sure enough, a brown cardboard box was sitting within arm's length of them. What really surprised Tyler, though, was that the crawlspace was lit from the inside and looked like it led to a small room. Alex wasted no time in edging his way into the room within. Tyler followed behind him, pulling the box out of the crawlspace to create more room

The light, they found, was coming from an oil lamp hanging from the ceiling. The small room, Tyler thought as he stood up all the way, shouldn't be able to fit in their house. This was where the bathroom was supposed to be. A school project required that Tyler's class make a map of each of their houses, and Tyler made sure that his was perfect. The only way this room would fit would be--.

"Magic!" Alex whispered, reaching his hand out to a painting that hung on the left wall. Except, Tyler noticed, the sleeping lady within the frame was _breathing._ Alex touched the woman's nose, and she woke up immediately. He withdrew his hand quickly, as if it'd been burned.

"What're you kids doing in here?" the old lady's raspy voice questioned in a thick southern accent.

Neither boy answered.

"Surely you aren't allowed back here? What time is it? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"This is amazing," Tyler said, disregarding the woman's questions and surveying the small space around them. The entire room had some kind of silent energy. Although it was mostly filled with boxes, there were plenty of objects scattered on the shelves that lined the room. Alex had already found another magical item, a music box, and was winding it eagerly. Tyler looked over Alex's shoulder and watched the ballerina do several spins before leaping through the air and doing the splits.

"Wow—" Alex breathed. "How could mom and dad hide all this stuff from us?"

"I thought they could only do magic with plants," Tyler commented, holding a miniature glass elephant in his hand that actually walked around, swinging its trunk back and forth.

"You kids get back to bed right now," the woman's picture chastised. "I'll tell your mother you were in here."

"Uh oh," Alex said, turning to Tyler. "Mom _will_ find out if the picture tells!"

"My name is Eliza," she huffed importantly, "and yes, I will tell if you don't get out of here instantly."

"You mean," Tyler said, feeling awfully strange talking to a picture, "if we go now, you _won't_ tell our mom?"

"I won't tell," she began, "but if you get out right now, and never come back. And _leave everything _where you found it!" She was looking straight at Alex who had tried to put a handful of blood-red candies in his pocket.

"Come on," Tyler said, pulling the sleeve of Alex's pajamas. If they could get out of this without being told on, it would be best to do it quickly.

Alex was first to crawl out. Tyler turned to the woman. "Thanks, Eliza," he said. She nodded, and Tyler saw a hint of a smile. He crouched down and made his way out. He and Alex put the wall back in its place.

"Hey, look," Alex said as they began to put the boots back. The brown box that Tyler had moved out of the way was in the middle of the hall.

"We better put it back," Tyler said.

"No way, now that old fart in there can't tell us to stop?"

Tyler shushed his brother. "You don't want mom and dad to hear us."

Alex picked up the cardboard box, which was just small enough for him to wrap his arms around. He carried it into the playroom and set it down in the middle of the room. It was hard to see, because the only light came from the flashlight, which was still in the hall. Tyler went to go get the flashlight and when he came back, Alex was sitting cross-legged, holding a wrapper and a small, round candy in his palm.

"Look what I took without the picture seeing," he said impressively. "Put it in my pocket as I was leaving."

"What is it?" Tyler asked skeptically, sitting across from his brother.

"It's candy! Read this." Alex gave Tyler the wrapper. Tyler maneuvered the flashlight so he could see the glittering words on the square of paper.

"Mini Fizzing Wizzbee Candy," Tyler read.

"Bet it's magic candy!" Alex said, hardly able to contain his excitement.

"Bet it's poison," Tyler mocked.

"Is not! It says 'candy' right on the wrapper."

"Then why don't you eat it and prove it?"

Alex's superiority diminished quickly. It looked as though he was seriously considering what Tyler had said about it being poisoned.

"I dare you to," Tyler urged, knowing Alex was too full of himself to turn down a dare. "Eat it."

"I'll lick it," Alex whispered. "But then you have to lick it, too. No matter what happens. Promise?"

"Promise. Now do it."

Alex could no longer stall for time, so he shut his eyes and brought the bright blue candy to his mouth. He wiped it across his tongue quickly, as if that would lessen the chance of any toxins jumping down his throat.

He waited for a few seconds, but nothing happened, so he gave it to Tyler. The wet side of the sphere left a blue mark on Tyler's hand.

"That's dumb," Alex concluded. "I mean, it tastes good, but it's probably not even – Holy Moly! Tyler! Look!"

Tyler looked up from his blue stained palm and saw that Alex was now hovering two inches off the ground, still sitting Indian style. It lasted for a few moments, and then he settled back on the ground.

"Give that back to me!" Alex said, grabbing for the candy, but Tyler stood up and backed out of reach before licking the candy himself. The sweet taste of blueberry exploded in his mouth. When he swallowed, it felt like helium was coursing through his bloodstream. A tingly feeling settled into his stomach and Tyler felt the ground slip away. It didn't feel like he was flying; it felt like the rest of the room was falling very slowly and he was staying in the same place. Alex grabbed the candy from Tyler's limp grasp and popped the whole thing in his mouth.

They spent an hour trading turns, not regarding the fact that they were also trading saliva along with the hovering candy, which grew smaller and smaller with every lick. Even though they couldn't fly more than a foot off the ground, and couldn't go anywhere once they were up there, it was still amazing, and they had trouble keeping their excited voices low enough to keep from attracting any unwanted attention from upstairs.

When Alex had dissolved the last of the blueberry magical candy and his feet touched back to the ground, they both had such a lingering fit of giggles that Tyler's stomach began aching. The candy had to be magic if he was having this much fun with Alex.

In all the elation that surrounded the marble-sized candy, both of them had completely forgotten about the cardboard box. They each seemed to remember the mystery box at the same time, though, and hurried to open the tightly closed flaps.

"What if there's more candy in here?" Alex whispered excitedly. Tyler half-hoped there weren't because he had been starting to feel dizzy every time the floor dropped from beneath his feet.

He then realized that while a piece of candy might not be noticed missing, his father would surely notice that the box was missing, or that it had been opened and bothered with.

"Maybe we shouldn't," Tyler said anxiously as Alex pulled on one of the flaps, folding the corner conspicuously.

"Are you joking?" Alex said, tugging on the stubborn cardboard. "This is big! It could be anything!"

"There's a reason it's hidden," Tyler whispered, feeling guilt for having eaten the candy and now for invading the box.

"Oh shut up," Alex snapped. "You know this has got to be important! Without this, we'll never figure out about all this magic stuff. Remember what Mom did to you when you asked about it? She's never going to tell us anything, so we have to figure it out ourselves."

The memory of Tyler's mother scolding him for asking questions about Werdwall resurfaced in his mind. _Alex is right,_ he thought, _Mom and Dad will never tell us anything_.

He grabbed the flap with Alex, and they both pulled with all their seven and nine year-old might.

The inside of the box was glowing with a faint pink light. Soft pieces of cloth surrounded a glass ball that was filled with pink cloudy mess.

"Wow," Alex said, wrapping his hands around the glass ball and lifting it out. "This is neat. Feel it, it's so light."

Tyler apprehensively reached out and let Alex drop the ball into his hands. It felt very heavy, and Tyler wasn't expecting the weight and almost dropped it.

"Fooled you!" Alex laughed. Tyler scowled. Alex leaned over and checked the rest of the box.

"Oh, a little stand or something," he said, producing what did look like the ball's stand from the depths of the box.

"It's a crystal ball," Tyler gasped suddenly, looking into the moving clouds within the ball. "Like, gypsies and fortune tellers, you know?"

"No way," Alex said, reaching for it. "Here, let me tell your future."

He placed the crystal ball on the metal stand, and closed his eyes halfway as if in a trance. Tyler didn't like the way the light hit Alex's face, from the bottom; it sent strange shadows across his cheeks and forehead. Tyler tried to hide his sudden discomfort by staring at the ball.

"You shouldn't mess around with this, Alex," Tyler murmured, feeling the same strange energy he had felt in the magic room behind the closet. "What if you make something happen?"

"Nothing's going to happen, you dork," Alex whispered harshly. "I'm not a real fortune-teller."

Tyler swallowed and hoped that Alex was right when he began telling Tyler's future.

"Tomorrow you will be yelled at by Dad for breaking into his magic box."

"You did it too!" Tyler said defensively. Alex ignored him.

"You will fall and break your face after falling down the stairs. You will see that your brother is smarter and stronger than you and will be his personal slave forever."

"Stop it," Tyler sighed, not believing that he was actually having fun with his irritating brother just a half hour before.

"Come on, you try," Alex said. "It's fun!"

"I just want to go back to bed."

Alex suddenly became angry. "Tell my future, Ty, and make it a good one!"

"I don't want to get in trouble." Tyler shifted his weight to stand up, but Alex picked up the ball and set it in Tyler's lap before he could stand.

The strange shadows danced across Alex's angry face. "Do it, Ty, or you _will_ be in trouble, with me."

Tyler could see there was no way out of this one, so he settled back down and picked up the crystal ball.

"You're going to get good grades this year, and won't get grounded at all until you're sixteen years old," he said in one breath.

Alex raised an eyebrow. "What else?"

"You're going to be captain of the football team."

Alex smiled; football was a favorite pastime. "And?"

"And –"Tyler couldn't think of anything else off the top of his head, so he looked inside the crystal ball as if it would show him an answer. He almost dropped it when he realized the color had changed to orange, and was swirling much faster now.

Alex's eyes grew wide, focusing on something behind Tyler. Tyler turned, and saw Mr. Chas's frame in the doorway. The awful, sinking feeling of foreboding dropped into Tyler's stomach once more—so completely different than that of the magical candy. He wished he could have another lick to balance out his insides.

Mr. Chas was walking into the room with long, irritated strides, and his lips were moving, but Tyler couldn't hear what he was saying. In fact, he realized, he couldn't hear anything at all besides the blood pumping through his own head. Before he became completely irrational, he gazed down at the crystal ball and saw a series of events he couldn't describe or even remember within moments of them flashing into his consciousness. The sudden feeling of intense drowsiness overtook him, and he slumped over onto the floor.

"Tyler? Ty, are you okay?" Mr. Chas's voice woke him suddenly.

"I'm fine," Tyler said, squinting. Who had turned on the lights? The guilt of breaking into his father's box and playing with the crystal ball jumped into his throat. Mr. Chas was grasping his shoulders and the crystal ball was rolling away from them.

Alex was just staring at Tyler, horrified. Tyler wished he would stop it and start thinking up a good excuse. Alex was much better at excuses than Tyler since he was much better at getting into trouble.

But Alex wasn't speaking at all.

"Go upstairs and wake up your parents," Mr. Chas said to Alex, still holding Tyler's shoulders tightly as if they were bicycle handles. Alex rushed out of the room.

"Tyler?"

"Sorry," Tyler said quickly. "I know we shouldn't have—"

"Don't worry about that," Mr. Chas interrupted hastily. "Are you feeling okay? Do you remember what happened?"

Tyler thought that was a strange question to ask and wondered if Mr. Chas was trying to pull his leg.

"I remember you coming in the room—and then falling asleep?" Tyler hadn't meant for it to sound like a question, but his memory seemed oddly hazy. His mother and father entered the room in their robes. His dad was still fumbling with the knot. Alex peeked in through the doorway as if Tyler was something dangerous.

"Oh, Tyler!" His mother swept down and embraced him.

What was going on? Why weren't they angry? They seemed almost frightened.

Mr. Chas, for the first time in Tyler's life, looked at him like the mature person Tyler felt inside.

"You're up for quite a future," Mr. Chas breathed respectfully, "I hope you can handle it."


	3. Seizures and Letters

**Author's Notes**

**I wanted to thank and respond to my reviewers**

**SRAndrews – **Thank you for your two reviews! It's nice to have a reader who keeps up with the story. I don't think any HP characters will pop up... I mean, they don't go to America at all, do they? ;)

**Leiselmae – **I loved your review. It's not often you get a review with the information you REALLY want on there. I hope you keep reading and keep giving such good reviews!

* * *

Pamela Washington was sure she had the Ridges figured out. They were insomniacs who did all of their gardening in the dead of night. It made perfect sense to Pamela, who spent an inordinate amount of time secretly watching Unsolved Mysteries and reading tabloids. She knew the gardening had to be nighttime work, because one evening she inconspicuously planted one of her own naturally grown weeds into a corner of the Ridge's lawn. She even hid it under a bush so that it wouldn't be found unless someone was specifically looking for it; it was an experiment to see how long until they extracted it.

The next morning the weed was gone.

The very next night, which was exceptionally warm for it being September, Pamela set up her ex-husband's old telescope that he had left in the attic. While she knew nothing about stars or even how to work the telescope, she just wanted an excuse to be outside to witness the Ridges performing their nocturnal yard work.

Midnight came and went, and mosquitoes were eating up Pamela's flesh. She was becoming increasingly frustrated with the Ridges. Were they even awake? Maybe they slept first and then did yard work in the very early morning hours? She spotted the light of a flashlight through the playroom window.

When she saw the Ridge boys floating mysteriously in midair, she could hardly believe her eyes. She rushed inside and called her favorite tabloid newspaper with the information.

The next morning, several men with strange clothing appeared on the Ridge's well-manicured lawn. Pamela approached them, announcing that she was the one who spotted the boys and that she was willing to give an interview if the tabloid wished. They exchanged glances and one of them, a tall man with a very small nose, agreed to follow her into her house.

"They're a little crazy," Pamela began excitedly, pouring coffee into an empty plant pot instead of the mug she had meant to use. "I've known it ever since they moved in. That was about nine years ago, when she was pregnant with the oldest—"

Pamela's mind heard the word "Obliviate!" before she completely forgot what she had been talking about. And then, for some strange reason, she completely forgot to whom she'd been talking, since her kitchen was empty. She looked down at the small plant pot filled with coffee, and wondered if she wasn't going partly crazy. Pamela took a long nap that morning, and when she woke, she wondered what the Ridges were up to that day, none the wiser that she had witnessed magic in their house.

Tyler didn't grow at all from the age of seven to the age of nine. The doorway where their father measured their heights each year was growing full of marks, but Tyler's growth stopped at four feet and three inches. It was the morning of June fifth, Tyler's birthday, and as he lay in bed, staring at the bottom of the bunk above him, he imagined his father trying to hide disappointment as he made a mark on the doorway that overlapped with last year's.

Tyler could also imagine the marks of Alex's growth, the lines drawn many inches above Tyler's head. Alex had just turned 11 on the first of June, so the height lines were painfully clear in Tyler's mind.

Alex burst into Tyler's room at eight o'clock.

"Ready to get measured, runt?" Alex laughed, and Tyler heard him run down the stairs. The smell of pancakes filled the room when Alex opened the door, and Tyler decided he might as well get up because there was no longer any chance of him falling back asleep.

Pancakes were a special breakfast at the Ridge household, made only when there was company or when it was someone's birthday, so Tyler took care to eat his pancakes slowly and savor them.

"Pancakes again?" Alex mock whined. Since his birthday was only four days before, it made Tyler's pancakes that much less important. Tyler knew Alex was just trying to make him angry, because Alex helped himself to a number of pancakes before declaring himself full.

Tyler pressed himself up against the doorframe, and his mother happily declared that he had grown a fraction of an inch, but that was because his father didn't make him take his shoes off like he usually did. Just as Tyler suspected, his dad was trying to hide the fact, even from himself, that Tyler simply wasn't growing.

He sulked in the backyard for a while, trying not to feel sorry for himself. His lifelong bane of being treated like a young child was multiplied by the fact that he still looked like he was seven years old. While he never discussed it with his family, Tyler suspected that it was his sickness that had stunted his growth. The night when he and Alex discovered the magic candy and then the crystal ball, Tyler had had a kind of seizure when Mr. Chas entered the room. Alex claimed that he couldn't really remember what had happened, but confidently told Tyler that it had been scary.

Tyler had about seven seizures in the two years following that night, and his parents were growing visibly worried. What was even more worrying, in Tyler's mind, was that after every seizure, he felt increasingly frustrated, as if he had somehow missed out on something while he had blacked out. He tried to hide these rages of frustration, but after the last episode, he flung his dinner plate across the kitchen and demanded to know why this was happening to him.

A handful of strange people came to Tyler's house the morning after his first seizure, and had a long conversation with his parents. What Tyler thought was the strangest, was that he didn't have to take any medicine or go to the hospital whenever it happened. Once, it happened while he was at school. His mother came to pick him up and the next day the entire class acted like nothing had happened. Not like Tyler ever brought it up, though. He was already having enough trouble making friends being the shortest in his entire class without drawing attention to the fact that he became mysteriously ill.

While Tyler sulked in the backyard, Mrs. Washington was snooping around in her own backyard, probably being paranoid as usual, Tyler thought. He wandered to the swing set, climbed the ladder to the slide and sat at the top, letting the hot plastic warm his backside.

He was staring up at the early afternoon sky, when a strange bird caught Tyler's eye. At first he thought it might be an eagle, but as it neared him, he saw that it was an owl. He had never actually seen a real life owl before, not even at the zoo, but he had seen enough pictures and PBS shows to know it was a barn owl.

It was approaching him at an alarming speed and before he could think about what to do, Tyler threw his arms over his head as the owl swooped down, missing Tyler by about a foot.

A letter dropped into Tyler's lap.

He looked around. Where had it come from? Surely the owl didn't drop it; whoever heard of an owl carrying letters.

He read the address.

Tyler Ridge 

_Dark Blond Hair: Black Eyes_

_796 Majken Place_

_Alexandria, Kentucky_

There was no return address or stamp. It had to be magic, Tyler concluded. Ever since the encounter with the magical room behind the closet, his parents sealed up the crawlspace and forbade the boys of mentioning magic or asking about it. His father promised to explain in due time, but they were too young (an explanation at which Tyler became extraordinarily angry). Tyler knew his mother would want to see the letter right away if it had anything to do with magic, but it _was_ addressed to him.

Making sure Mrs. Washington from next door wasn't watching him atop the slide, Tyler turned the letter over and ripped it open. A handful of confetti popped out the top of the opened envelope, followed by music that sounded like a university's fight song. It was very loud, and he was sure Mrs. Washington would hear, so he pulled out the contents of the letter and placed the empty envelope between him and the slide, muffling its notes to a dull hum. He turned his attention to the official-looking letter within.

_Congratulations_, Tyler William Ridge!_ This letter has been sent to you because you have been accepted at Werdwall School of Magical Arts. If you choose to attend Werdwall, your classes will begin on Monday, September 2 of this year. Move-in day will be Saturday, August 31. Your schedule is enclosed as well as a list of your necessary supplies. _

_Sincerely,_

_Olivia Johnson_

_Assistant Principal_

Werdwall! Tyler finally knew what Werdwall was, and not only that, he was going to go to Werdwall and learn magic! His parents wouldn't be able to hide their magic from him anymore. He couldn't help but grin as he read and reread the letter. It was almost as if he'd licked a Mini Fizzing Wizzbee, judging by the feeling in his stomach. And he'd be able to buy his own magical candy with his allowance now that he would know about magic.

_Wait until Alex hears about this_, Tyler thought, and then froze. The only reason the two of them knew about Werdwall was because of their parents secretly discussing Alex going there someday. If Alex hadn't been accepted at age nine, like Tyler was, he might not be going at all.

A mixture of guilt and pleasure met Tyler at this thought, which was quickly interrupted by a voice from next door.

"What are you doing over there, Alex?" Mrs. Washington called over the fence.

"Tyler," he corrected politely, hiding the note behind his back. "Not doing anything, just playing." He slid down the slide; the envelope had stopped playing its music, and Tyler snatched it up when he reached the bottom. He ran inside, disregarding the fact that Mrs. Washington was still attempting to have a conversation with him. It was time he learned what this magic business was all about.


	4. Make a Mistake

A/N 

**Thanks to my duo reviewers again!**

**SRAndrews – **Alex is not a squib ;)

**Leiselmae – **Another great review! I hope this is speedy and enthralling enough for you, haha

* * *

When Tyler slid open the back door of the kitchen, he heard the same, unmistakable notes of the fight song he had heard in the backyard. He looked down at the envelope in his hand, somewhat dismayed that it was playing again because he wanted to surprise his mom; but the envelope in his hand was silent.

Confused, Tyler searched for the source of the noise. Maybe his parents got a letter too, informing them that he had been accepted? His elementary school always mailed letters to his parents, even though he had a copy to give them also. Tyler resented this, but put that thought in the back of his mind as he followed the song's joyous notes.

The song ended, and he still couldn't figure out where it was coming from. It seemed awfully loud, but after he searched the downstairs, he figured he'd go upstairs and check.

His brother's door was opened a crack, and Tyler peeked inside to find Alex sitting between his mother and father, holding the note.

"So THAT'S what Werdwall is!" Alex said triumphantly. "It's not a person, it's a place!"

"Just keep your voice down," Tyler's father murmured in a low voice.

"Honey," his mother whispered, "We're going to have to tell Tyler now, anyway."

"Wait!" Alex said angrily, "You're going to tell Tyler even though he's only nine?"

Tyler figured this was as good a time as any to present himself. Hiding the letter in his back pocket, he entered the room.

"What's going on?" Tyler said in what he hoped was a casual enough voice.

"I know what Werdwall is," Alex sneered, "And you don't!"

While Tyler was planning on keeping his acceptance letter a secret, he couldn't stand Alex flaunting like he was. Tyler reached behind him, and pulled out his letter.

"I know what Werdwall is, too. And I knew about ten minutes before you did."

"Wait a second," Alex growled turning to his parents, disappointment in his voice, "Am I being accepted late? Was I held back before I even got in? I'm not going if I have to take classes with little snots like Tyler!"

Tyler's parents were too distracted to reprimand Alex for calling his brother a name. They both reached out for Tyler's letter; he didn't want to give it up, as if afraid he wouldn't see it again if they took it, but he let it go. He surveyed his mother and father's faces while they glanced meaningfully at each other; he couldn't tell if they were excited or worried.

"Honey, where did you get this letter?" his mother asked him.

"Outside," he replied simply. Tyler was trying to avoid Alex's furious stares.

"How could this be?" his father said to himself.

"Why, what's wrong?" Tyler asked, his heart beating faster. His father clearly wasn't excited.

"You're too young," his mother whispered. Tyler tried not to let himself become automatically angry at the statement, but that would be like trying to keep a dog from chasing a cat.

"What do you mean I'm too young?"

His mother shook her head. "Only 11 year-olds get accepted to Werdwall. It's like that for all the magical schools."

"You mean there's more than one?" Alex asked suddenly, his mood lifting. "I'll go to Werdwall and Tyler can go to another one!"

"Alex, please," his father said, quieting him.

Tyler couldn't see what the big deal was. It was neat that he found out about the magical school, but whoever was in charge obviously just sent the letter to him too early. He'd just wait another two years and then go.

When he voiced this out loud, Tyler's mother shook her head.

"I don't know," she said. "Christopher?" She looked at her husband and nodded toward the door, silently asking him to step out of the room with her.

Tyler was left alone with Alex in Alex's room, feeling like an animal out of his territory.

But Alex wasn't concerned with tormenting Tyler at the moment. He was looking over his supplies list, eyes brightening as they surveyed each item.

"Magic wand," he breathed, "that sounds cool."

Tyler, devoid of his letter and supplies list, sat next to Alex and tried to read over his shoulder. Alex pulled the list away defiantly.

"I'll read them to you," he announced bossily. "Magic wand, basic chemistry set, dragon hide gloves—"

"Dragon hide?" Tyler asked. "Like, real dragons?"

"Of course, stupid," Alex replied, but Tyler could tell he was excited about the sudden realization that dragons might actually exist.

Alex continued to read the list: Ministry approved safety goggles, standard size 2 cauldron (pewter), and an assortment of other things, none of which seemed as exciting as dragon hide gloves.

"Mom and Dad must have gone to Werdwall when they were kids," Tyler said as Alex tucked his letter back into the envelope.

"We did," their mother said from the doorway. Both boys jumped, not realizing she had been standing there. She looked less bothered than she had when she left the room.

"Where's Dad going?" Tyler asked, hearing the garage door open and the car start.

"He's going to go talk to some of the people in charge at Werdwall and sort it all out," she smiled down at her boys. "We've been waiting for this day to come since... well, since you were born, Alex."

"You've known I was going to be able to do magic since I was born?" Alex gawked.

"There was a very good chance of it," she said, sitting down between her sons. "Your father is a wizard, and I'm a witch, making it very likely that you were magical, too."

"Did your parents keep magic a secret from you until you were eleven?" Alex asked.

Their mother grimaced and smiled at the same time, Tyler noticed, as if she knew what their reaction would be.

"No, they didn't."

"What?" Alex exclaimed at the same time Tyler asked, "Why were you hiding it from us?"

"It's a long story," she said quickly, silencing them. "It's not normal, exactly, for a magical family to keep magic a secret from their children. But you two are an exception because we had to live in a non-magical town because of your dad's job."

"What does Dad do?" Tyler asked.

"That's not important," his mother answered, evading Tyler's question, "what matters is that it's so hard for a magical family to live in the suburbs with non-magical neighbors. Look at Pamela Washington next door, she's had at least five memory charms because she so darned nosy!"

"What's a memory charm?" Alex asked, wide-eyed. "Did you erase her memory?"

"I certainly didn't," his mother answered. "But, yes, that's pretty much what happens. She saw the two of you when you found the Fizzing Wizzbee, and someone from the Ministry of Magic came the next day to fix her up."

"Have you ever erased my memory?" Tyler asked.

"Of course I haven't," she answered, idly ruffling his dark blonde hair.

"How did Werdwall know I was magical?" Alex questioned.

"Remember that fish tank you broke at school?"

"I didn't break it!" Alex fumed suddenly. "I didn't even touch it!"

"You didn't touch it, but you did break it with your magic."

Alex's mouth dropped. "So I've already done magic? Wow!"

"What about me?" Tyler asked quietly. He'd never broken anything or done anything magical before; at least, nothing he knew of.

"I don't know, sweetie," she said, not meeting his eye. "Sometimes it's not as obvious as a broken fish tank."

Alex asked his mother dozens of questions for the rest of the afternoon. Even while she bustled around making them lunch, he sat at the kitchen table, asking about dragons, monsters, and magic his mother had done before she went to school. Tyler, though, remained silent. Why had he been accepted when he'd done no measurable magic, and accepted early, for that matter? While Alex spent the afternoon asking questions, Tyler just waited for his father to get home and announce that the mistake had been ratified.

What if he had to go to school anyway, and they asked him what he had done that was magical, and he said nothing? Not only that, he'd be the youngest and shortest person in the entire school. Would anyone else be accepted early? Even if they were, he'd be a head shorter than any of them.

"Can't we have any more of that candy?" Tyler heard Alex ask.

"No," his mother answered promptly, serving them sandwiches and milk. "Just because you kids know about magic now doesn't mean it's a free-for-all in this house. I want you to keep this a secret just like you kept the plants outside a secret."

Tyler sighed, wishing he could share in Alex's excitement about Werdwall, but the looming threat of attending school too early dampened his enthusiasm. To keep Alex from pestering her all night, his mother finally disappeared upstairs and came back with a thin book titled: "Lucas and the Magic Cloud" which looked like a normal book, except that the smiling cartoon boy on the front was animatedly waving from atop his magic cloud.

"It was one of my favorites when I was younger," she told Alex, handing it to him.

Night crept up on the house at the end of the cul-de-sac, and Tyler's father still hadn't returned home. Alex was up in his room, reading about Lucas's adventures flying over Egypt, Australia, and England and Tyler was curled on the couch in front of the TV.

"Are there any magical channels?" Tyler asked when his mother entered the room. A soft smile came to her face and she fiddled with something in the back of television set. The newscaster, who had been droning about an oil crisis, was replaced by a colorful commercial for cereal.

There was a boy eating the cereal, and with every bite his skin turned a different color. It flashed to a table full of colorized children, all of them laughing at each other's colors.

"Rainbow Crisps!" the announcer exclaimed, "A rainbow in every box!" A message quickly scrawled across the bottom, which hurriedly explained to parents how to undo the charm if it didn't disappear after fifteen minutes. "If child is blue and not breathing, seek medical help."

Tyler normally would have smiled at the end of this message, but the fact that his father had been gone for hours wasn't making him feel better. His mom, who had been watching him closely for a reaction about the magical television channel, turned the volume down to a hum.

"It'll be okay, Ty," she said, approaching the couch. "Your father will sort out everything."

Tyler smiled a little bit, glad that she could at least tell what he was worried about. "I just wish," he said slowly, "I wish that I knew I could do magic." His mother sat down next to him. "At least that way I'd know if I did have to go, I wouldn't be just a mistake."

"They wouldn't even have your name if you weren't magical," she said softly. "Magical kids are the only ones who get those letters, and they have never made a mistake before."

"Then why did I get mine early if they never make a mistake?"

"I meant they didn't make a mistake about a kid being magical or not."

"If they could make a mistake about giving me a letter early, how come they can't make one about me being magical?"

Tyler's mother laughed a little and placed a hand on his head, combing his hair with her fingers.

"Ty, don't worry about it. You're too smart for your own good. No matter what happens your father and I will make sure everything is for the best."

Tyler nodded, and then faked a yawn. "I'm tired," he lied. "I'm going to go to bed."

"Okay, sweetie," she said, pulling her hand from atop his head. "We'll tell you in the morning what's going to happen, okay?"

"Okay."

"Night."

"G'night."

As Tyler lay in bed that night, straining his ears for the garage door, he tried to keep his mind from wandering to Werdwall. Every time his thoughts settled on it, he imagined a large wizard, who looked remarkably like Mr. Chas, asking Tyler how he was magical. He would say nothing and the room full of older kids laughed so loud it woke him from his half-sleep. The fourth time this happened, Tyler stopped trying to stay awake for his father, and turned to his side. He sleepily remembered that it was still his birthday, and he hadn't made a birthday wish yet.

_I wish,_ he thought with all his might, _I wish I don't have to go to Werdwall this year._


	5. The North Star

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**author's note** – Thank you so much, leiselmae, for your particularly encouraging review. as much as everyone says you should write fanfiction to please yourself, it becomes a true joy to have other people enjoy it with you. Encouraging reviews are what drive me to make time in my week to write a chapter. I also thank Shadowbolt the Demon for reviewing. I'd like to finish this author's note by saying it's almost 11:00 pm, I've got a project due in ten hours that I have not yet started, and I'm just blissfully happy that I've posted another chapter up for Tyler Ridge. Please enjoy, oh few readers : )

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The next morning, Tyler woke to find out that his birthday wish had not been granted, and that he would be the youngest wizard-in-training ever. Well, not ever -- at least since the age requirement had been issued for all wizarding schools in the year 1789. Not only that, but when his father woke him up that morning to tell him, Tyler had another seizure, rendering him bedridden for the rest of the morning.

Trying to sort out his confused feelings was too much effort for Tyler as he sat in bed with the overwhelming prospect of attending school – a wizarding school – two years before he was supposed to. While his mother bustled in and out to give him soup and other made-up home remedies for the seizures, Tyler questioned her about Werdwall. He found out that kids went there until they were eighteen years old, twice Tyler's age.

"Do really I have to go, Mom?" he asked when she brought him a tall glass of orange juice late that morning.

"Are you feeling better?" She evaded his question ungracefully.

"I'm fine... I'm always fine after my seizures. I just don't want to--"

"Tyler," his mother said, "You might not want to go, but it really is for the best."

Tyler was trying not to get angry with her. "How do you know?"

"Remember when you started third grade, and you already knew all the multiplication tables before anyone else?"

"Yeah."

His mother smiled. "You got to go into the fourth grade math class with all the older kids and learn math with them because you were so smart."

Tyler never told her how much the kids in the fourth grade class made fun of him during those math sessions. If she knew that, she never would have tried to make him feel better with this particular story.

"Going to Werdwall early is kind of like going into that fourth grade math class a little early."

Tyler swallowed dryly, hoping Werdwall wouldn't be near the same as that math class. "But I knew I was better at math than the other kids; magic is really different. I've never even done any magic!"

"Just because you didn't see the magic, doesn't mean it didn't happen," she explained softly. "Your father didn't show any signs of being magical when he was young, and when he got the letter, he was as surprised as you were. Then he found out that he had magically made his baby brother, your uncle Luke, temporarily mute more than four times. He didn't even know it until he asked his headmistress after he had started school."

"Did Uncle Luke go to Werdwall?" Tyler asked.

"He went to Katoaki Academy in California."

"Can't I go there instead of Werdwall?" Tyler would rather be clear across the country than in a boarding school with Alex. His frustration of being forced to go to Werdwall on top of having another seizure started to emerge despite his best efforts to suppress it.

"No." She answered shortly. "Your dad went to talk to the people at Werdwall, and he thinks it's best—"

"I don't want to go!" Tyler said suddenly, pushing the sheets down and getting out of bed. "What if I have another seizure? Why can't I just wait two years? Nobody even really knows if I'm magical or not!"

"Tyler!" his mother reprimanded. "Get back into bed!"

"I don't want to get back in bed and I don't want to go to Werdwall!"

"Tyler William Ridge, get back in bed this instant!"

He sat down on his bed immediately; Estelle Ridge didn't pull out a middle name unless she had reached her last straw, something Tyler knew all too well from overhearing her battles with Alex.

She seemed like she was trying not to raise her voice as she continued: "You are always complaining about how everyone treats you like you're too young to do anything," she said quickly, as if she had been waiting to say it all morning. "For once your age isn't being considered, and you have the opportunity to do something that no nine year-old has done in over two hundred years."

Tyler was silent. His mother handed him the glass of juice she was still holding.

"I'm not going to tell you that it'll be easy," she continued, more sympathetically, "because it won't be. But they obviously know something you don't by inviting you to come. I promise that you'll understand the reason someday, but for now you have to trust their decision."

Tyler stared at his socked feet. There would be no weaseling his way out of going. He nodded his head to show his mom that he accepted his fate and would go without any more struggle. At least, with no outward signs of struggling.

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The long summer days turned into long summer weeks. The boys were shuffled from soccer practice to swimming lessons and all the other normal summer activities they did before they knew that they were going to Werdwall. Tyler tried to stay away from his older brother as much as he could, since Alex seemed to feel like Tyler was going to Werdwall just to make him angry.

The both of them were forbidden to mention magic outside of the house – even when in the house their mother encouraged them to whisper. The magical channel (called WBS) was only allowed on when their neighbor, Pamela Washington, wasn't home; she had a way of sneaking looks into the Ridge's house at inopportune moments. Since she was old and didn't have any real hobbies, Pamela was almost always home, so WBS was almost never on. Estelle supplied Tyler and Alex with as many magical books as they liked, but none that she gave them taught how to actually use magic. Most of them were comic books or short stories with young wizards as main characters who solved unlikely mysteries; the rest were dull books about the history of magic, which were only worth the few moving pictures within.

Tyler had never seen Alex read so much in his entire life. He was even reading the history books, not just looking at their pictures. He became a walking, obnoxious and loud encyclopedia of all things magical, or at least all things magical mentioned in the few history books.

"The wizards in the American Indian tribes were so different than the English wizards," he spouted off at dinner one night in late August, trying his best to sound intelligent. "They knew a lot more about making potions because a bunch of the most magical plants are in America."

"Very good, Alex," their father said idly while chewing his meatloaf and reading The North Star, a wizarding newspaper.

"Chris, don't read the paper at the dinner table please, honey," Estelle said, dishing out more mashed potatoes onto his plate.

While his father ignored his mother's commands, Tyler eyed the moving pictures on the back of the newspaper. One of them caught his eye: a wealthy-looking wizard who grinned slyly out at Tyler. His nose was abnormally small in comparison to the rest of his face and somehow looked tall, although Tyler couldn't be sure since the picture was only of his face.

"Who's that man?" Tyler asked, pointing at the picture. His father turned the newspaper over to look. His expression became hard to read, something between confusion and surprise.

"Why do you want to know?" he asked, eyeing his son somewhat suspiciously. This reaction wasn't what Tyler expected, and he didn't know how to answer. He wasn't going to tell the truth – that he felt like he somehow knew the man very well.

"Just curious," Tyler lied, trying not to look like he really wanted to know.

"Well," his mother said loudly. "I think it's about time we think about getting you kids your school supplies."

"Yes!" Alex yelled gleefully; he had been waiting to get his supplies since the day the list had come. Tyler wasn't so eager, because he had still been secretly hoping that he would somehow get out of going to Werdwall.

"Where are we getting our stuff?" Alex asked fervently. "I saw a commercial on WBS for wands and they said the store was—"

"Alex!" his mother hissed, "not so loud."

"Can't you just pick up my stuff, and I'll stay here?" Tyler said dejectedly.

"Don't start that attitude, young man," his father warned. "We're going as a family."

"You're going, too?" Tyler asked skeptically. His father was almost always too busy with work and leading the community watch program to do anything with the whole family.

"Yes, I'm going too," he answered with a smile.

"Do we have to go all together?" Alex spat, glaring at Tyler.

"Why?" Tyler sneered, rising to Alex's taunt. "Don't want people to know that your little brother might be better than you at something?"

"No, I just wouldn't want anyone to accidentally step on you, runt."

"Boys!"

Tyler ignored their mother. "They won't be close enough because they're afraid you'll lecture them on the properties of dragon hide!"

"Tyler!"

Alex's face was sour, and after quick contemplation decided he wouldn't let Tyler get the last insult in this fight.

"At least I can DO magic! You're too busy having seizures and not growing to know if you can even BE a wizard!"

"That's ENOUGH!" their father shouted, his angry voice ringing in the newly silent room. "If either of you say another word your mother and I will go to The Palace without you and won't buy the gifts we were planning to get you."

Neither of the boys spoke, and both of them forgot what they had originally been fighting about. Even Tyler was filled with instant enthusiasm at the prospect of getting a magical toy or magical candy. While they silently made faces at each other, their parents arranged to leave for what they kept calling "The Palace" in the morning.

Late that night, Tyler pressed his ear against his bedroom door, confirming that his parents had gone to bed and wouldn't hear him sneaking around. While talk of going to The Palace had distracted Tyler, he never fully forgot about the picture of the man in The North Star. The entire evening his father held onto the newspaper, almost as if he knew that Tyler was waiting for him to put it down so he could sneak a glance at the story accompanying the man with the small nose.

Tyler watched him roll up the paper and put it in the bright red recycling bin in the garage just before bedtime.

Hoping that Pamela Washington wasn't snooping around their house, Tyler turned on the garage light and kneeled next to the recycling bin and fished out the slightly damp paper. He quickly flipped through the pages searching for the inexplicably familiar face, but the man was nowhere to be found. Tyler searched through each page, looking at them all carefully, but the page with the man's picture simply wasn't there.

Tyler furiously threw the paper back into the bin. His father knew; somehow he knew that Tyler would go looking for the wealthy- looking man. He hated secrets being kept from him. He hated that his father deliberately kept him from finding out about the man. Tyler's anger became red-hot, and it took everything he had to keep from picking up the recycling bin and throwing it out the small garage window.

Tyler knew that this man was the key to why he was going to Werdwall. If he could find out more about the man, Tyler would discover what, if any, magic he possessed.


End file.
